Lindsey, my 16-yr-old, is a princess. A diva. A snob. A royal button-pusher, born with a silver remote in her hand. She can agitate and aggravate like nobody’s business. She’s got lip and she’s not afraid to give it.
Yes, she’s a teenager – and has been since the age of five.
Which is why, when (in one of her ten-year-old made-for-the-big-screen-moments) she snapped “I WISH I were adopted!” I calmly replied, “You were, sweetie, but they brought you back.”
I think we’ll keep her.